


Selfishness

by fadinglove



Category: DCU
Genre: Hurt Bruce Wayne, Hurt/Comfort, Justice League Dark - Freeform, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Short, justice league - Freeform, league meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:31:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9642716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadinglove/pseuds/fadinglove
Summary: defile:to desecrate or profane something sacred.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this is almost an excerpt out of a bigger fic. makes no sense whatsoever. but I hope you can enjoy it anyway  
> *edit 4/7 this fic was the basis for a longer superbat fic called "aftermath". check it out

Batman lays sprawled on the ground, cape in tatters, cowl ripped off to reveal his lovely face. A cut runs alongside one high cheekbone. His fingers close around something precious and obscure, glinting ruby.

He cannot see through his own shame, even when no one is there to watch or judge or pity. He cannot breathe through the deep bitterness running through every vein.

That was not Kal-El, the Superman. That monster, who so savagely slammed him into weakness and hit him until he was dizzy, grabbing his armor like it was soft flesh to feel bones bend under his touch.

That monster, who so remorselessly entered Bruce and did so for pleasure and nothing more. That was not the Kal-El he knows.

Batman is smarter than a man of injury lying on the ground, doing nothing. He can think of a hundred and one ways to contact the League, or his family, or even a random civilian, before something worse happens to anyone.

But in a rare, rare moment, he allows himself a moment of pure selfishness to lay there in all his pity, blood dripping freely, insides hurting from the rough, bruising touch of not-Clark.

* * *

"You're hurt," are the first words to appear in the air, and Bruce always waves them away.

"I'm in possession of the ring. My mission was successful."

"But you're hurt."

"If you can't handle looking at me with a few minor cuts, I beg you to reconsider your line of career." Even through the cowl, his expression is superior.

John Constantine takes his hands out of his coat's pockets. "Bollocks... I mean the hurt inside ya. Something's broken."

"How poetic."

But when John gently takes off the cowl, Bruce can't bring himself to protest.

* * *

There is a weird kind of energy shooting through the League today. Superman stands upfront, speaking, and Batman hopes it isn't too obvious that he can't bear to look at the Kryptonian.

It brings Bruce a flood of pain.

"Batman reports that a creature disguised as me, or rather transformed, should I say, attacked him in the Watchtower last night." He pulls up security camera feed from a familiar place. "Though he must have been stronger if he defeated Batman." Clark smiles easily. Some of the League chuckles.

"Don't play the recording," Bruce says, and there's something strange in his voice.

"What, you embarrassed?" And then Clark looks at Bruce- _really_ looks at him, for the first time that night. The League falls silent then, shifting in confusion.

"Don't play it. Delete it. All the League has to know is that your doppelganger beat me, and then left."

A pause. "Alright then," Superman says, and moves on. 

Bruce cannot move on.

* * *

A kiss. Bruce can feel the stubble against his face. "Here," John breathes, and then he is guiding him to the hotel bed. The other man obeys as if in a trance.

Constantine mutters a few words under his breath, and suddenly Bruce is in pajamas. The Batsuit lays casually over a chair. "Uncanny."

"C'mon then," and they're kissing quietly, as if they have all the time in the world. Both men kneel on the mattress. The lights are dim, the windows large and sparkling with night city lights. John peels off his ever-living coat and he's on his way to a hard-on now-

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," he rests a careful hand on Bruce's waist, "You're bleedin'."

And then Bruce is doubling over in pain, arm wrapped around his abdomen. The dark spots through his pants start to grow. "Bruce!" John tries to support him in his arms.

"What is this?" A flash of realization. "Last night. The fake Superman. What happened, Bruce? What did the thing to do ya?"

"Raped me," he whispers, a hot flush in his cheeks. Shame. Then, unbelievably, a laugh. "Imagine being raped by the Superman."

"Don't be embarrassed. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. What in ever-living Hell, it was not in your control. Bruce. Bruce?" There are warm fingers clutching at his neck, and John holds him tighter. With another muttered spell, the blood is cleaned, but Bruce seems to be melting away.

"I got to take you to a doctor."

"No," Bruce whispers, "Please. Just stay here."

Constantine, in a rare, rare moment, acts out of pure selfishness. He wraps Bruce in his arms and they stay. Two hearts as one.

**Author's Note:**

> spurred by watching justice league dark (it's glorious, everyone should watch it)


End file.
